Beautiful
by bgreenwivy
Summary: It's the little things that gave him away.  In his own way he cared, the firewhiskey was a clue.


**Title: Beautiful**  
**Rating: NC-17**  
**Pairing(s): Neville/Draco**  
**Disclaimer: All Harry Potter characters herein are the property of J.K. Rowling and Bloomsbury/Scholastic. No copyright infringement is intended. All characters engaging in sexual activity are 16 years or older.**  
**Summary: It's the little things that gave him away. In his own way he cared, the firewhiskey was a clue.**  
**Warnings: Blood Play though very minor, more like when you prick your finger and put it in your mouth type. Dubcon as well **

**Word Count:2000**  
**Author's Notes: This was written for the 2009/2010 Yuleball and the prompt was the lyrics from Eminem's song 'Beautiful' though by no means is this a song fic.**

Being drunk is never an excuse for anything. I know that but when you stumbled into the little side garden at Hogwarts, I couldn't help thinking you looked like an angel. All rumpled up in a short, white, glittery toga with a pair of wings charmed to your back. I wanted badly, me, the clumsy bumbling Gryffindor Neville Longbottom, disguised as Ronald Weasley in a Roman soldier outfit. Somewhere he was charmed as me in overalls with a straw hat complete with pitchfork. You came on to me hard and I fell for it.

I had never had sex before, but it didn't matter to you. You had your head up my tunic sucking me down your throat before I got more than a word out. Watching your wings shiver and shake with your frantic movements under my clothes, I could barely focus on the sensations. I was too drunk to appreciate the work you were putting into the blowjob. When you pushed me down onto the bench I went along with it.

When you straddled me, inserting me into your tight hole I just managed not to come. As you rode me, I felt the shifting as the charm began to fade. By then you were too far gone to notice and I didn't care. You slumped forward onto my chest and I rested a hand on your back. Its dark tan taunted me. I was me again. You must have felt the rest of the change taking place because you sat up abruptly and stared at me in horror. You practically ran to get away from me and I simply lay there, too drunk to do more than pull my tunic back down.

Six months later I still don't know why I let you get to me. I sit in your private rooms at Hogwarts watching you rip holes in students' work, unable to contain my scorn, but how I want you regardless. Even now after a vicious coupling I want that long pale neck bent to my will.

I pick up the glass of Firewhiskey I had ignored when I first entered your rooms. It seems odd that you even went through the motions of pouring me a drink knowing that I wouldn't get to drink it when I arrived. From the first moment I entered the room you had my back against the wall, tongue down my throat and hands down my pants. You wanted it bad. I could tell, by the tremor going through your hands.

I know you are slumming with me. You are pureblood and wealthy but so am I. Pureblood and wealthy though I am, I do manual labor but that is what you like about me. My hands are rough and calloused, dirty from plant samples.

In the heat of the moment you don't mind the dirt or my sweat from a long day spent collecting samples from the Forbidden Forest and developing hybrid plants. When I flip you around, pressing your back into the stone dungeon walls you yank on my hair, like it is a rein. I oblige your command by picking you up. Your robes part showing me that you are naked under them; already lubed and ready for my arrival.

Slamming into your hot hole, I can barely contain myself when you swear at me. Looking down I am fascinated by how your belly quivers and shakes as I continue to slam into you. I refuse to look at your face when I take you. It would irritate me too much to see your eyes closed and your face turned away from me pretending I am him, my friend Ron.

When you come it is always hard. Your stomach concaves and it is all I can do to not imagine what would happen if I had you flat on your back, in a bed with my come on your stomach, those gray eyes staring glassily at me while you pant and groan.

"See Ron today?" I can't help but ask and I watch the quill pause in its dissection of

papers.

"He _is_ the Quidditch instructor and I _do_ go flying… regularly," you respond simply and I can't help but down the fire whiskey and get up to leave.

"Have fun with that." I can't help but feel bitter. You use me for a substitute and don't expect me to be smart enough to know.

"Longbottom, where are you going?"

Looking at you right now would make me go back to routine. Fucking against the wall when I get here, drinking my whiskey afterwards while you grade papers, then retiring to your bed where I do all those dirty things that you think about but have never had the guts to try with anyone else.

"Leave if you want to but don't come back without an apology and a new attitude." Your tone is almost glacial and your eyes are probably as hard as diamonds but I refuse to look.

I throw you a wave as I walk out the door. On my way back to my quarters, I take points from some students for being out after curfew. No point in trying to be nice when I want to scream at the moon. I won't be able to sleep tonight, especially when your smell lingers on my body even after a shower.

The next day I go to the greenhouse. It is my sanctuary from you. You don't like to get dirty unless it's sex but then again if I left any evidence of my temporary possession of your body you would immediately erase it. Throwing myself into my work I refuse to acknowledge the sun's flight into the sky. I cancel my classes. There is no point to them. When I finish all the work in my greenhouses I collapse on the dirt floor and just breathe.

"Get up. I want to talk." I turn my head and feel my world tilt. There you are in your teaching robes, though you have them slightly gathered in your hand to keep them from getting dirty but more importantly – _you are in my greenhouse_.

"Talk." I am nervous, you don't come here –_What are you doing here_?

"Longbottom, be reasonable."

"You say his name when I fuck you."

"Do you have any idea how hard it is to remember his name while you…" You cut yourself off and drop your robes, your hands clenching.

"Finish that sentence." I need you to, want you to…

"It doesn't matter." You are embarrassed and turn to leave.

"_Incracreous_." The ropes fly out of my wand before I realize I had moved.

"What are you doing?"

"You push and you push me." I feel anger running through my veins and finally lose my temper. "I try to ignore…" I stop. I don't want to continue and with a flick of my wand I release the spell and stagger out of the greenhouse into the afternoon sun. I wave at the students who are hailing me but don't stop until I reach my portrait, where I mumble the password.

The portrait doesn't close directly behind me and I know you followed me. Passing through my sitting room I remove my shirt and head directly through to my bedroom. Tossing the shirt into my laundry bin, I feel you sit on the bed. I ignore you. I can't do it anymore and I don't know why I tried. Kicking off my shoes, I move into my bathroom, the rest of my clothes disintegrating from my body.

"Are you going to talk to me?"

"Go find Ron," I mumble, stepping under the spray and sliding the curtain around, cutting off my view of your suddenly apocalyptic expression.

I wasn't surprised when the curtain slammed back. It had taken some time for you to slam it back, I was covered in soap – how Slytherin of you.

"First of all, I haven't thought about Weasley since after the first time. Secondly, if I wanted someone else it wouldn't be easy. I don't want to spend the rest of my life fighting with someone. That is what I get at work here at Hogwarts. I would sleep with someone like Potter or heaven forbid Weaseley. I didn't realize it but I wanted someone who could put up with my outrageous demands but fight me when it mattered. You understand?"

I refused to answer instead continued to clean myself off.

"Stop being a bastard…Longbottom – it doesn't suit you."

"You can leave whenever you want to," I respond, tipping directly under the spray. The curtain slammed shut following my declaration. When I heard the portrait slam I couldn't hold back a sigh of relief. In my heart I had already forgiven you …but I couldn't help wanting to give you a little of your own back.

Getting out of the shower I toweled off and got dressed. The alarm for my personal greenhouse went off and I leaped into action. I barely stopped to grab my wand before sprinting to my greenhouse. There I found a shock. You are being held hostage by one of my guard plants. It is swinging you upside down and showing the fact that you aren'twearing anything under your robe.

"Draco, what are you doing in here?" I ask in an effort to keep from laughing.

"Trying to prove a point."

"There is a reason you are the Potions Master and not the Herbology Master." I point out evenly, curious to where you are going with this.

"Have I ever been in your greenhouse?" You growl sounding exasperated. I can only raise my eyebrow.

"Look, I want to see inside your eyes. Longbottom…you don't have to be Ron, just be you."

"I had no intention of being anyone else."

"Don't let anyone say you aren't beautiful." You speak quietly.

"I think the plant addled your brain." I walk over to the groper and study it briefly. "Ahhh… the Empathy and Clarity hybrid, what did it make you feel?"

"Why did you put up with me?"

"I love your sarcastic, spoiled rotten, pointy prattiness; heck, I admire that you don't care what others think." I don't understand what prompts the sudden declaration until the smell of the Clarity plant strengthens.

"Even if you and I aren't together anymore, I'm going to be a hard act to follow, think about that before you say anything."

"Neville…" I stare at you, it is the first time I have ever heard you say my name. "Look, Neville, I bleed for you." I stare at the blood welling up on your left wrist. My eyesight seems to sharpen as I zero in on the pulsing vein, as the blood starts to slide down. Before I can stop myself I am holding your wrist in my hand and licking the blood away. The starburst of flavors, blood, sweat, dirt, tears and, faintly, ink erupt onto my tongue but as I look into your calm gaze I feel nothing but peace.

Walking you back towards the door I press your back into the glass. Lifting you up I press into you slowly. You didn't wear anything under your robes and I didn't either. The entry is rough and you wince briefly. "The glass is cold," you whisper, wrapping your arms around my neck. I merely bury my face into your neck as I slowly make love to you.

I have no intention of this being fast even though someone passing the door would see you pressed against it. All the practice from before comes in handy now as I know the perfect angle to touch that spot your fingers can never quite reach. As your cries become louder and more impassioned I concentrate on other things. Like the fact that Ron seems frozen outside the greenhouse door watching as I take you. I can't help but wink at him. When you come your head falls back and you scream helplessly.

Riding out your orgasm almost undoes me but I want to make you remember. Summoning my wand I lock the greenhouse door and fog the glass for privacy. Taking you deep into my greenhouse I lay you on the bed I keep there for the occasions that I have been forced to wait for a bloom or a growing plant to grow. As I raise your knees I can't help but grunt as you tighten around me. Gray eyes study me hazily as your fingers dig into my biceps as I continue and when I come, we come together, your whispers of _'Beautiful'_ in my ear.


End file.
